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[When the camera turns on, Marty's adjusting it before plopping down in a seat clumsily (grumbling 'fuckin' jelly legs' or something to that effect); he's got dust and oil on him, a little toil and trouble with the clean-up assistance he's been performing on the Tranquility (after pilfering a gun from the Scylla, of course). He's bone-tired and there's a bit of sweat on his brow, but in that weariness he finds temporary redirection from the shitty stuff. He's noticed, of course, people fighting plenty. People looking very tense and unhappy. The halls are even quieter, somehow. And he doesn't fuckin' like it, not one bit. Now, he's not particularly attached to this ship--duh, he's only been here a month and it's a horrible place on top of it--but like hell does he enjoy misery as company. That saying can just go shove it.

I mean, he's barely even smoking it up, lately. In fact, he's stone cold normal right now and empty-handed. They're just clasped in front of him as he leans into his knees.]

You know what I need? A break. A cigarette break, but with more words 'n shit. We've been working our asses off. Keep up the fantastic work, and all that jazz, but how about something else for a second? Juuust a second. I know we've all been stressed out, what with the pirates and the freaky-ass murdering specter captains and the--uh--ship clamped on us like a tumor. So just... Hey, I haven't--really indulged in the fact that we're all from every corner of time and space and universes and all that cool sci-fi stuff.

[He licks his lips as he considers what to say, hands motioning in front of him like he's trying to catch his own thoughts.]

You guys, we have all kinds of worlds on board! Tell me some cool shit about your world. Or about you. Whatever. Can I get some cool facts? Some jokes? Stories? Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything outside of good ol' planet Earth. Or even directed at me. No serious or traumatic stuff needed, just... stuff. Hell, if you're a connoisseur of movies or you have a thing for panda facts or you wanna tell a story about your crazy family reunions.

[He suddenly seems a little more excited, a little less tired, shifting in his seat.]

This entry is now Marty's Share Fair. I'm stuck on a funky space ship and all, so I might as well know more than the bleak stuff.

....

Just don't pull a TMI, okay? I'm sure everyone sees enough floppy nethers after each jump. We don't need to know anything about them other that the promise that you'll find a towel posthaste. Thank you in advance.

(ooc: threadjacking heavily encouraged! it'd be fun to have people find common interests or things to relate to, and I just wanted a kinda free-for-all for the S.S. Solemn Worrywarts)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The mutant label never actually caught on in the first place.

[ Shut up, Nathan, why are you talking about flying. ]

[ What because he never discussed it with you? ]

Unless you happen to be an X-Man.

[ BECAUSE IT'S WEIRD. ]

But we never actually were X-Men. We got the oxymoron instead.

Oh, we're special alright, Pete. Even without our powers that'd be true.

If you say it's because we're Petrelli's, i'll make sure Izzie leaves a present under your pillow.

I didn't say it.

Look, we were given the kind of privilege growing up that other people couldn't dream of. [ Maybe he was. ] You think many other boys learned to fly in a twin prop with their older brother? Lived in the middle of the greatest city in the world?

That's cause we're Petrellis, not because of our powers.

You think all Specials got that treatment?

Of course not. That's not the point. Same could apply to any kid the whole world over.

That's exactly the point, Nathan. We're not special. Doesn't count as special when we can all do the same damn thing in the first place.

Maybe not special. Lucky. More fortunate.

You still really don't get it, do you.

Maybe you don't get it.

You're bright and you're smart and you've been given a damn good start in life; there's everything in you that makes a good leader. You have a responsibility to use what you have to help those less fortunate.

[ Don't you see, that's what he's been trying to do all this time. It just looked like selfish power grabbing. ]

And what, you think I haven't been? Too much whining to actually make something of myself?

You want the honest answer to that question, Pete?

Sure, why the hell not.

[ Because they were getting along so well.......... ]

I don't think you do. Not that it makes any odds; wouldn't be the first time I tried to protect you from the truth.

Let me get this straight before I tell you to take a long goddamn hike off a short cliff. You actually think I haven't done anything to help those... less fortunate than me? If that's what you want to call it, because that's not what I call it. It's not about fortune and who won the genetic lottery, and it's not about growing up in some mansion that's got rooms nobody even touches.

You go find someone who grew up on the other side of the tracks and ask them what it means to be special.

And if you're talking about here, then maybe i'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but you don't have a goddamn clue what i've done back home. So don't tell me that you think you know what i've made of myself.

Pete, you were helping those less fortunate than yourself before you'd even left the cradle. Of course I meant here.

Look around you. People are suffering, and you've been there, been right with them--but do you bury your problems with the place and show them how to cope? Do you use the skills you've learned with people to guide them through the hard times? Do you sit and play piano with them to chase the silence away?

You can tell me to take a long walk off a short cliff if you like, it's still gonna be true at the end of it. You have what it takes, Peter--to be a great man; to be better than all of us.

Edited 2013-05-07 00:13 (UTC)

[ Nathan, sometimes he hates you for all the reasons he shouldn't hate you. All the other reasons, and the things you're not supposed to say. ]

You're the politician, Nathan. I'm the terrorist. I've told you before and you already know who they're going to listen to. Don't expect me to sit and play piano with people i've already wasted time trying to convince of the fact that their piano doesn't exist in the first place.

So you're a terrorist. Why? Cause I said you were. That make you less good? It make you any less of a leader? Any less capable of doing the things that gotta be done?

People will forgive you for not thinking this place is real. The question is, Pete--if it is, and you've been wasting all this time feeling sorry for yourself, will you?

Whether or not I think this place is real, doesn't change what i'm willing to do to get the hell out. Only problem is, people've all got their own agendas. Don't expect me to change everyone's mind.

Like you changed my mind in your own time? I never expected the impossible from you, Pete. I just wanted something.

I haven't changed your mind.

That's the point I'm making. You didn't. You couldn't. You're good, Pete, but you're not that good.

But not being that good is no reason to settle for nothing at all.

And if I didn't change your mind, who the fuck else do you think i'm capable of making believe. You keep acting like i've got some kind of great scheme hidden somewhere that's gonna save everyone, but as far as i'm concerned, you're all the ones in charge because everyone else sees it that way.

Everyone's already picked out their captains and I wasn't exactly in the running.

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